The Adventures of Arlene and Iris
by LollyPollyLolly
Summary: With the help of Sherlock Holmes, Arlene searches for her best friend Iris, who mysteriously disappears from their new house. Arlene discovers many things on her journey, some of which might surprise you.
1. Chapter 1: The Yellow Umbrella

Iris and Arlene sat under the bright yellow umbrella. The sun was at its peak, and its rays were warming up the stone streets of London. The Yellow Umbrella cafe was right across from the two women's new townhouse, on Abbotsbury Road, across from the park. They just finished unpacking. Neither of them volunteered to go get groceries, so they settled for a nice lunch in a cafe instead.

"It's funny how we are sitting under a yellow umbrella in a place called The Yellow Umbrella..." Arlene said, gazing at the sky through her sunglasses.

"And it's funny how they call Earth the blue planet, yet the oceans look green?" Iris said through her laughter.

"You don't have to make fun of me." Arlene said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not. Sometimes you can get rather odd. It's funny." Iris smiled.

Arlene kicked Iris' foot under the table. Then she innocently picked up her cup and looked away.

A scream and the screeching of tires suddenly broke the silence of the street. Iris and Arlene both looked around. On the corner of the street, they saw a man running, knocking over tables, destroying flowerbeds, and pushing people out of his way. As the man ran towards them, Iris grabbed Arlene's sleeve and pulled her out of his way. The man ran through the cafe's sitting area, overturning tables. Iris and Arlene's table was the first to be overturned. Seconds later, another man appeared. As he ran, he apologized to everyone around him. And then the street turned quiet again.

Before anyone had a chance to speak, a hand grabbed Arlene and pulled her inside the cafe. Once inside, the hand let her go, and she spun around to look at the person who grabbed her.

He was tall and lean, with angular face. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit. His breathing was fast, as if he just ran a marathon. His eyes were full of excitement.

"Can you help me?" He said sharply.

"What?"

"The man who just destroyed your peaceful tea and biscuit date is a murderer. He is going to run through here again, and I need someone whom he has never seen before to slow him down. Can you help me?" He repeated.

"Wha – why me?"

"You are not in any sort of hurry, you and your friend are clearly in need of some money, and the murderer will never suspect a fragile American to be in any way working for me."

"How...Who are you?" Arlene asked.

"Are you going to help me or not?" He was becoming impatient. He eyes flickered around – perhaps in search of another accomplice.

"Yes, yes, fine. What do you need me to do?"

"The owner of the cafe will finish rearranging the tables in ten minutes. He will supply you with new cups and a pot of lemonade and tea seven minutes after. He will also bring you a small porcelain bucket of ice. Five minutes after he will put the bucket on your table, please empty all the ice under your chair. Ask your friend to place her purse under her chair, and make sure than the purse is empty. The murderer will run past the cafe, slip on ice, and trip on the purse. Got it?"

His instructions were so precise, that for a moment Arlene thought that she was being pranked. But the man's eyes stared at hers with such seriousness, she almost couldn't not believe him.

Arlene nodded in agreement, and the man dashed away. She saw him again, wearing The Yellow Umbrella waiter's uniform, and a cap that shadowed his face. He lingered under the roof of the building and the corners of the sitting area.

Arlene quickly explained to Iris what they were supposed to do.

The tall man's words came true with unbelievable preciseness. The tables were back in order in ten minutes, and the bucket of ice appeared on Arlene and Iris' table soon enough. The two women sighed, and followed the directions: Arlene emptied the bucket under her chair, just as Iris put her empty purse under hers.

The street seemed to forget about the rampaging "murderer" that appeared on the street just moment ago. Iris and Arlene waited impatiently for him to show up again. They were about to start a conversation, when a waiter appeared behind Arlene and quietly said, "Would you like to look at our display? We added new treats."

She recognized the voice. "Yes, please," she said. The waiter gestured them, and the three of them made their way inside the cafe.

Just as they entered the building, there was a loud bang, followed by a loud scream of pain right behind them.

There was panic everywhere. After exchanging confused glances, Arlene and Iris ran through the worried crowd onto the street again.

The "waiter" and the apologizing man, had the "murderer" by the arms. The murderer's pants were soaked in lemonade, tea, and his shoes were filled up with ice. His legs appeared to be tangled with the straps of Iris's purse. He was trying to break free from the two men's arms.

Arlene and Iris stared at the scene, amazed at how perfect the plan worked. Within minutes, the police arrived, and they dragged the murderer away. He was screaming insults at the two men who were holding him down earlier.

Arlene watched the police officer have a short conversation with the tall man. Looking rather annoyed, the tall man pointed around the street and the sitting area. The police officer, who looked just as annoyed, shook his head and drove off in the police car.

"He didn't point at us. I guess that means we won't have to be involved in this any longer." Iris said smiling.

"But I kind of want to know what we just did..."

"Let's just go, before we get involved. Do you want to spend the next two weeks in a courtroom, explaining what the hell you were doing involving yourself in a suspect chase?"

"Iris, you are such a party pooper sometimes, and I – "

"Thank you for your help," a voice said.

The girls jumped in surprise to find the two crime fighters standing behind them.

"Sherlock Holmes," the tall one said, outstretching his hand. Arlene shook his hand carefully, smiling.

"John Watson," the other man said.

"So what exactly happened?" Arlene eagerly asked.

Sherlock Holmes rolled his eyes.

John Watson gave Sherlock a look that almost said, "Be nice". He then gave Iris a piece of paper.

"Thank you for your help again. It's a check for fifty pounds." John said.

"Thank you...But what – " Arlene did not even let Iris speak at all.

"You'll read about everything in the paper tomorrow," John smiled.

"That is, if Lestrade does not get the credit again," Sherlock whispered.

"Thank you for your help again." John said. "Have a nice day..."

John Watson already started walking away, but Sherlock Holmes looked back at Arlene, and smiling, said, "You should use that money to buy yourself a better lock, because your new townhouse is about to be robbed."


	2. Chapter 2: Power's Out

Arlene and Iris ran to their house almost instantly, even though neither of them really believed that their somewhat empty house would be a magnet for robberies.

Iris ran up the stairs first. Out of breath, Arlene just looked up and said something resembling "Was he right?" or "Do we need a new lock?"

She didn't need an answer. Iris loud scream explained everything. The lock was broken, the door was cracked, and the entire house looked like it barely survived a hurricane.

Arlene and Iris stood in the common room, unable to even panic, looking at the mess surrounding them.

"We should probably look around to see if anything was stolen." Iris said, poking at Arlene's ribs.

"I thought people in England would be nicer." She mumbled in agreement. Then, inch by inch, she scoured the entire house.

Iris crouched beside the door and examined the lock. She sighed.

"This lock shouldn't be sold for houses. It barely suits a shed." She complained, exasperated. "How did he even know that?"

Arlene ran back to the common room.

"Nothing was stolen. Not that there was anything to steal in the first place."

They stared at each other for a moment. Then, in silent agreement, they got back to work: cleaning and organizing once more.

The "valuables" arrived in the evening: the laptop, the TV, the radio...All the things that would normally be stolen. Although it took Arlene and Iris the rest of the day to put their house back together, they were quite happy that nothing was stolen. Iris followed Sherlock Holmes' advice and called in a locksmith.

The new lock was installed by the afternoon of the following day.

That night, Arlene and Iris sat together on their new couch, watching their favourite old movies on their new TV, and drinking hot chocolate. The murderer and the robbery was already forgotten.

"I like it here," Iris said, throwing her head back on the pillows. She outstretched her legs, _right on top_ of Arlene's. Arlene side glanced at Iris.

"Me too," she said through her teeth. She stared at Iris' fluffy green socks for couple of seconds. Then she grabbed one of Iris' feet, ripped the sock of, and rubbed it against the sole.

"STOP IT! I AM NOT EVEN TICKELISH!"

"LIAR!"

"STOP IT!"

"GET YOUR FEET AWAY FROM ME, AND I WILL!"

Iris gently nudged Arlene with her feet, before sitting _properly_ down on the couch.

Arlene couldn't stay mad at her forever - in fact, there was never a moment when they were mad at each other for more than an hour.

"Arly, but how did he know that someone was going to rob us?" Iris said, changing topics.

"I don't know. May be he did it?"

"No. It can't be. I mean they work for police."

"No they don't. You saw the officer's face."

"Okay yes, but they helped him arrest someone."

"Who is he anyway?"

"Wanna Google his name and see what pops up?" Iris said, rubbing her hands together and reaching for the laptop. "It gives me an excuse to test the high speed internet here..."

Arlene giggled. "You want to Google someone's name in hope that they are famous so you can brag about meeting him, aren't you?"

"No...Maybe...Yes. And you are the one who calls me a party pooper." Snickering, Iris impatiently waited for the computer to turn on.

"So are we not watching the movie anymore, or what?" Arlene mumbled, sneaking glances at the computer screen.

"Science of Deduction...This guy is good."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh my God, this guy is a genius."

"Let me see!"

"No! I was looking!"

"Just let me see..." Arlene said, taking the laptop out of Iris' hands. "The battery's low. It's going to shut off any –"

Before Arlene could finish her sentence, the entire street fell into dark silence.

"WHAT DID YOU DO!" Iris said, slowly turning around and giving Arlene "the stare".

"I didn't do anything, I swear!"

"Ah fine. Where did you put the candles?"

Arlene set up the candles on the coffee table, while Iris went around the house shutting off lights, in case the power comes back on during the night. Blackouts were not uncommon back from where they came from.

Soon enough, the power came back on. The two girls were about to separate and go sleep, when someone started repetitively banging on their front door.

As one who gets annoyed less often, Iris slid down the stairs' carpet and the tiled floor to the front door.

"Who's there?" She asked without opening the front door.

"I live next to you..." the woman's voice was cracking, full of panic.

Iris opened the door and saw the her face was wet with tears that were still streaming down her face. She was wearing a long coat over her pyjamas.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, my daughter disappeared!"

"When?"

"You are not going to believe me, but she was there before the power went out, and now she's gone! Please, for heaven's sake tell me that she got lost and ended up on your balcony!" The woman was sobbing and shaking. If it wasn't for the silk pyjamas and golden earrings, she would have looked like a homeless person. Iris called Arlene down, and together they walked the woman inside. Iris went to look around the backyard and the balcony but found nothing out of ordinary.

"The power was out for an hour...There was nothing, no sound, no screaming, no crying, no footsteps...She disappeared..." the woman kept saying, each time quieter and quieter.

"I'm sorry, I didn't find anything..."

The woman mumbled apologies, got up and left. Arlene ran after her, and watched her knock on the other houses' doors. Iris called the police.

"It looks like one way or another, we still end up involved in the court case." Iris said.

Oh, how right she was.


	3. Chapter 3: The Sound of Nothing

It was already past noon. Arlene was still asleep on her room. Iris got up earlier and she had to talk to various Police officers about the strange disappearance of the neighbour's daughter. By the time the street cleared out, Arlene was still sleeping. Iris sighed, walked up to her door, and started banging on it.

"Don't you disappear on me! Wake up already will you?" She yelled.

"Uh fine..." Arlene whispered, crawling out of the bed."Why do I have to wake up early to please you?"

"EARLY? It's 2 in the afternoon!"

Arlene opened the door. She was still wearing her night gown. Her long brown hair was tangled and uneven.

"You look gorgeous." Iris said, giggling.

Arlene rolled her eyes and slowly made her way into the shower.

"What's for breakfast..." she murmured walking into the kitchen. Her hair was wet, and still dripping. Whenever Arlene tried to dry her hair with towels, they got soaked before her hair was even close to being somewhat dry. And she hated using fans. She only used those before a party, or something like that.

Iris had short hair, and she didn't have a problem with fans...or towels. She didn't have a problem with Arlene's wet hair either, even though it would have bothered everyone else. Sometimes, she ties Arlene's wet hair into long braids. Once it dries, her brown hair becomes curly. Arlene always wanted curly hair, but she never bothered curling her hair every morning, because it requires getting up early.

Today, Iris didn't touch Arlene's hair.

"You mean dinner?"

Arlene glared at Iris.

"You know, I don't complain when you get up at 5 in the morning. Or 3. Or when you can't sleep at all. I can still hear you know. Walking around, watching TV. I don't complain. When I sleep, do I make a sound?"

"But I get bored without you..." Iris said. For a second, the two of them stared at each other. It seemed as though each of them was trying to say something to the other, but couldn't form words.

"Right, dinner...I made potatoes. And there's chicken in the fridge."

"Thanks." Arlene said, smiling. It was her turn to cook, and yet, Iris still made them dinner.

Some time after dinner, they decided to go shopping for a pet. Or for a job. But the moment they left their townhouse, they noticed that the street was once again surrounded by police cars. Arlene frowned. Iris laughed and went across the road, to the police officer who stood beside the police tape.

Arlene looked around the street. She noticed how empty it was. And quiet. They lived near the park, and it was the middle of summer! _Why is it so quiet?_ She thought.

"The guy across the road found a suicide note, but no one found the body, and he says that there is no reason why his wife would – are you listening to me?" Iris said, snapping her fingers in front of Arlene's face.

"Iris...What time is it?"

"What? 6pm..Why?"

"Then why is this busy street so empty? Why is the park missing children? No one is even walking their dogs!" Arlene said, pointing around the street. She was right of course. The street was emptier than usual.

"What are you talking about...? Let's just go, before they start asking around...Again," Iris pulled on Arlene's shoulder.

"Why am I the only one who thinks that all this silence and the disappearances are weird?" Arlene murmured.

"Because you studied occult in university, you watch too much television, and you read your first mystery novel when you were seven. I wonder." Iris said, laughing.

"Have a nice evening," the police officer said to them. "Be careful. Watch yourselves."

As Arlene and Iris were walking away, the street fell silent again. Only the sound of shivering bushes broke the buzz of nothing.


	4. Chapter 4: The Rest is Silence

Arlene got a job at the university as an on campus tutor and a professor of occult and paranormal studies personal assistant. She was gone most of the mornings and afternoons. She was helping people with research skills, formatting of papers, as well as she was helping professor with presentations and marking. Couple of days the professor let her give a lecture. She was way on her way to becoming a part time professor.

Iris graduated college as an animator and she was still looking for a job. She aimed high but she always considered her options. At one point, Arlene asked Iris to wait until she got an offer from a big company. With much convincing, Iris decided to do just that. She stayed at home, but soon enough, she began feeling lonely and a little guilty that she did not contribute to their joint bank account.

She ended up getting a job in the very café where they helped arrest a murderer. Her boss, Anderson, he asked her to call him, was a true Englishman, born and raised in England. He was the only person so far who could be put into the "English" stereotype – he was always proper and courteous, with his fancy accent and intelligence. Even though Iris was a waitress, she often ended up sitting at the tables reading or surfing the internet, because Anderson liked her and he knew that this job was not the one she spent years studying for.

Arlene and Iris both had weekends off. The summer was coming to an end, and the dreadful weather kept them inside. Not that there was anything to do outside. Their street became so empty that it could have been considered a ghost town.

By this time, both Iris and Arlene were suspicious of their surrounding emptiness. Their neighbour still didn't find her daughter, the man across still didn't find his wife's body, and also more and more people began moving out, and no one was moving in. They lived very close to the central London, and to them, the emptiness of a very popular park was more than odd – it was very unnatural. Their suspicions were not recognized by police, but the remaining neighbours were eager to speak about it. Yet no matter how many times they discussed this mystery, no one got any closer to its bottom.

"I'm leaving early today," Arlene said to Iris. Iris was sitting in the living room, reading a book that Anderson recommended her. Today was the first day of the fall, September 1, and Arlene needed to help the professor go over the application essays. She was put in charge of creating a list of the "first cut" students.

Arlene didn't want to go. She wanted to stay with Iris. She couldn't explain why, but she felt like she needed to be with her today.

"I'll be back by 7."

"Arly, you just go and do what you have to, okay? Don't worry about me, I'll still be here when you get back." Iris smiled, giving Arlene a wink.

Arlene leaned in to hug Iris. Iris' hug was tighter than usual.

There was a sense of worry on the street today. Arlene had to walk to the main road to get a taxi, because, for some reason, they no longer drive here.

After a long day of reading essays, Arlene was eager to get back. Before she got a cab, Arlene got herself and Iris coffee from their favourite, but very expensive, coffee shop.

Every Wednesday, Arlene and Iris watched their favourite show on TV, at 8. Arlene's trip to the coffee shop made her a little late. She digged for her keys, standing at the door, with time running out.

She ran inside, throwing her jacket, boots, and purse somewhere on the floor.

"Iris! I'll be right there!" She shouted, running through the hallway. She made a sharp turn through the living room arch, and the first thing she saw was the TV. It wasn't turned on. The clock's bright glowing numbers showed 8:05 PM.

"Iris? Did you fall asleep?" Arlene asked, smiling, and coming over to the couch.

Arlene's hands shook. She dropped both of the coffee cups. The coffee spilled and bled all over the wooden floor, leaking onto the rugs and under the furniture.

In panic, Arlene ran through the house, screaming Iris' name, frantically searching for her.

The last door on the second floor was Iris' bedroom. Arlene didn't bother knocking. She opened the door and jumped inside Iris' room.

Arlene laughed nervously.

"It's not funny, Iris." She whispered. Then after reality hit her, Arlene slowly sat down on the floor and covered her wet face with her hands. "It's…not…funny…"

Iris was nowhere to be found. The silence of the ghost town consumed Iris Beige.


	5. Chapter 5: For Those Who Wait

_Knock. Wind. Cold. Rain. Discomfort. Darkness._

"What do you mean 'wait 24 hours'! She said: "I will be here when you get back'! She was not planning to go anywhere!"

"May be she went to see a friend. Did you have a fight?"

"No! She has no friends. We have no friends. We've moved here two months ago!"

"I'm sorry, miss, but you cannot file a missing persons report until after 24 hours. You'll have to wait. May be she will come back."

"I am not waiting! Do you understand me? She said she would be here! She was gone! All her stuff is still at the house. Even her wallet. Even her cell phone. She disappeared. You have an obligation to investigate!"

"There is no need to shout!"

Arlene stared the officer at the desk down. There was no ways she'd be leaving without filing that report. She knew that Iris disappeared, just like everyone else on their goddamned street.

"It's been a whole night and half a day. Isn't that enough? She has a job, she's wanted there. She wouldn't have abandoned it. She's missing, and something is up here, and you need to look into it."

"Ms. Beige is an adult. May be she's out with friends."

"How many times do I have to tell you that she has no friends! We haven't been out that much to make friends that would let us stay over. GIVE ME THE GODDAMNED REPORT!"

The officer sighed and handed Arlene the paper before she caused a scene. It took her merely five minutes to fill it out. She knew that the report really wouldn't get her anywhere, but it was worth a shot. The yard gave up on the search for the neighbour's daughter, and the suicide case was still open.

Arlene did not want to give up. She hated being in the house, knowing that she let Iris slip through her hands, knowing that Iris was gone, and not knowing when she'd see her again. Arlene was angry, but her anger always disappeared whenever she opened the door. She cried enough for that day, and she couldn't possibly cry more.

Days passed, and police officers came over, looked around for suspicious signs, and asked her questions. Weeks, after weeks, there were no calls from anyone with new information. Arlene began making the calls herself, every Wednesday, at 8PM, to the same officer, asking if there were any new developments. She received the same answer every time. And every time the officer said "No, leave us alone" in a nice way, Arlene was losing faith in them.

She searched the newspapers and the Web for private investigators, intending to spend as much money as she could to get the best ones, to hire at least one person who could do something.

Arlene was never a proactive person. She'd rather let things unfold and see what comes. But this sudden change, she felt like she has been forced to live a life of someone else. Iris, her best friend, her flatmate, and she realized how much she depended on her. From a simple opinion on an outfit, to once in a while curly hair, Iris was the center of Arlene's universe.

Arlene made contact with several investigators. One of them managed to find a little scratch on the outside of the living room window, and he assumed that this is where she left or was taken from. Arlene tried to be nice, but there was no way she would leave through the window. Or, if she was, likely, kidnapped, there would have been more signs of struggle. Iris couldn't have opened the door to someone she knew, because she knew no one. She wouldn't even open the door to Anderson – because her boss showing up in the middle of the night would be just creepy.

Unsatisfied, and angry, she kept going to work, asking people around if they knew anyone who could help her, or anyone who was in the same situation – who was not on her street.

Arlene was sitting by herself in the university cafeteria, eating her own lunch. She was reading the newspaper, trying to see if anyone else disappeared, or to find a new private investigator. She stared at the paper in anger when her eyes fell on the article about police finding a missing child and rescuing a hostage. They didn't deserve this praise, if they refuse to take time to investigate the disappearances on her street. It didn't have to be hers. Anyone.

"Arlene Simmons?" Arlene blinked. She didn't want to explain the lecture notes again to another student who spend the entire class playing solitaire. She lifted her eyes to look at the person standing beside her.

"Yes? Look, if you're in one of my classes, just make an appointment." She said, softly, trying not to sound like she was about to bite.

"Arlene! I'm Emma. Emma Morton. We went to University together, remember? Back in the states?"

It took Arlene about a minute to remember her face. She was someone she knew from her life as a student. They used to copy each other's homework and create study notes together.

"Oh gosh, Emma! What brings you here, so far?"

"I could ask you the same question…" Emma smiled, sitting down across Arlene.

"Well I moved here with a friend of mine, and now I work here," Arlene said, laughing.

"Really? I am a scientist now, I'm a guest speaker today. Can you believe it?"

Feeling rather nostalgic, Arlene and Emma spend the rest of the lunch talking. Arlene haven't had a proper conversation with anyone for, what it seemed like, years.

"So who is this friend of yours? Can I meet him?"

"Oh no, no, it's not like that. Her name is Iris."

"HER name? Gosh Arlene, have you been keeping secrets?"

"What? No, we're just friends."

"But you live together"

"We share a house."

"Oh, okay." Emma's eyes flickered. She didn't want to start an argument. The two of them always argue like a married couple, about every single little thing. Sometimes, it was fun, but most of the time, they ended up in an actual fight. Today, neither of them wanted to get into that, so Emma just left it alone. She was fighting back a mocking smile.

"You can't meet her anyway. She's…missing." Arlene's heart dropped. Every time she used "she", "Iris" and/or "missing" in one sentence, she wanted to cry.

"How?"

"I don't know. She's just gone and it's been weeks and no one can find her. I tried everything and everyone and there is nothing." Arlene complained. With each sentence, her voice shook as she tried to hold her panic back.

Emma stared at Arlene. She could tell how upset she was. She wasn't a genius, but Arlene's pain was written all over her.

"I think I may be able to help you."

"What?" Arlene looked up. She looked like she just heard the voice of a god. "How? You're a scientist, you can't –"

"I know someone, who inherited a lot of money and it was publicly revealed somehow. Then his baby got kidnapped and he hired a detective who helped him get his baby back…I was there, that man is…a genius."

"What?"

"Here, here's his address…Give him a chance, Arlene." Emma said, writing down an address and a two phone numbers on a napkin. "I have to go do my presentation now. The number with a lot of fours is mine. Call me and let me know how you're doing."

Emma smiled, waved and ran off. Arlene stared at the napkin. Her tears were gone. If someone was good enough to be recommended, she ought to give him a chance.

"Sherlock Holmes. 221B Baker Street"

Interesting coincidence, Arlene thought. It seems as though we've met before.


	6. Chapter 6: Oh, It's Christmas!

_Movement. Shuffling. Voices. Machines. Smell of gas, iron and salt. Head spinning. Can't open eyes. Can't feel limbs. Can't move. Can't speak. Sleep. Just sleep_.

Arlene's cab stopped right in front of the detective's door. She nervously handed the cab driver some cash, and leaped out of the car. She spent a moment trying to calm herself down before knocking on the door.

"Who's there?" An old woman opened the door. Arlene's heart dropped – what if she got the wrong door? "Yes?"

"I'm...here to see Sherlock Holmes."

"Just go up the stairs, dear. Knock first." Arlene smiled and made her way up the stairs. The house smelled nice and welcoming. Arlene's nervousness seemed to go away with the atmosphere of the house.

She followed the old woman's directions and knocked on the first door.

Silence.

Arlene's heart dropped again: her only hope was now not answering. She knew she should have called first.

She knocked again, louder.

She heard a loud bang, and then glass shattering. Then, the door opened and a voice invited her to go in.

She carefully walked through the doorway, inside a somewhat messy but cozy living room. Arlene was not a neat freak, so the utter chaos of random objects lying everywhere didn't bother her at all. There were books on every piece of furniture. Newspaper clippings were scattered all over the floor. There was also a broken vase near the window.

She turned to face the man who let her in.

"John Watson," he said, shaking her hand.

"Arlene Simmons."

"Just take a seat in the armchair there, I'll call him right down."

"If he's busy I can come another day," Arlene whispered through her teeth.

John Watson smiled.

"No, don't worry. I'm very glad you came. I was hoping someone would come…"

Arlene didn't ask anything and just sat down nervously. She noticed a violin on the armchair across from her. Immediately, she began to like the person she was about to speak to. Anyone who played an instrument was already her friend. She was so very tempted to grab it and play it herself, but she was able to restrain herself.

Arlene took a deep breath and collected her thoughts.

She looked up when she heard footsteps. The man who suddenly appeared before her was tall and very fit. He looked absent but she could tell that he was definitely excited for something. His eyes were quick and piercing. She knew who he was. This was the same man whom she helped at the Yellow Umbrella. He was the same man who told them to change the lock.

"Sherlock Holmes," he said, sitting down across her. He grabbed the violin and placed it gently on the floor to his left. He placed his elbows on the arms of the chair and entwined his fingers in front of his face. He stared at Arlene with his piercing stare.

John came over, and he just leaned against the table.

"What brings you here, Ms. Simmons?" He asked.

Arlene took a deep breath.

"I live on Abbotsbury Road, and. –"

"So you're here about the disappearance then?"

"Yes, I –" Arlene almost smiled in relief. He knew. He knew about the disappearances.

"Please tell me what happened, every detail, everything you can think of." 

"Should I leave?" John asked quietly.

"No, of course not." Sherlock said to him. "Ms. Simmons?"

"Arlene," she corrected.

"Arlene, why don't you start from the beginning."

Arlene didn't have much to say. Her knowledge of the situation was very limited. She finished her story in less than ten minutes. She doubted his ability, just like she doubted the yard. No one would be able to get her answers with this little evidence. Sherlock Holmes did not interrupt her. He only asked unrelated questions, or tried to get minor details.

His eyes stared into space with deep thought. Arlene could almost see his brain work. He clapped his hands.

"I'm taking your case," he said.

"How much do you –"

"We'll get to that later. Do you mind if I look around your townhouse?" He was already up, putting on his coat.

"No, anything to help you." Arlene got up as well. She grabbed her jacket and headed to the stairs. "I'll get us a cab."

"Allons – y, John. This case promises to be very interesting. Very interesting." Sherlock Holmes said, running down the stairs. John Watson sighed and ran after him.

It was almost past noon, and the cars were blocking the streets everywhere. The traffic built up, and Arlene's cab was stuck half way to her house.

"If you don't mind me asking, but how did you know about the lock?" Arlene wondered shyly, to relieve the almost awkward tension in the cab. "You know, that day at the Yellow Umbrella, you said that I need a new lock, and you were right, so…"

"Well, your accent is quite distinctive to the north America. At your age, accents are very easy to acquire. If you stayed here for more than a year, your distinctive accent would have been gone. This tells me that you lived in England for less than a month. Your clothes are neat and polished, not very expensive, but good looking enough for someone who used to have a regular income. I can infer that you have already purchased a house. The food on your table told me that you were having lunch. Why someone choose to go to a simple road café for lunch? The lack of contents in your friend's purse tells me that you don't live too far. The distinct smell of pine and maple trees tell me that you live near the park. Where is the nearest living spaces available close to a park and the Yellow Umbrella? Abbotsbury Road. This is the one of the very little that only have townhouses. These are old English townhouses, with old locks. The city has been slacking on inspection for the past two years, thus basic safety features, like locks and windows are probably unsafe. Judging by the fact that you recently moved in, the curtains are still not preventing strangers from looking inside your house. The easy to break in houses tend to attract burglars that lurk everywhere around the time of lunch. It is very likely that one of them saw the mess in your house, and broke in without the lock stopping them."

Arlene's jaw dropped. She stared at him, not entirely believe that he could tell all that just from what they were wearing and eating.

"That was brilliant," she said. "Absolutely amazing."

Sherlock Holmes smiled a little, but he was still looking out the window of the cab with his judging eyes. Arlene wondered what he already knows about Iris. She was dying to know. She was tempted to ask. But she knew that she had to patient.

Finally, the cab pulled over to the empty street. Now that the fall came, the trees began shedding their leaves, the grass started to turn yellow, and occasional rains made the ground black. The street resembled a cemetery. It was rather eerie.

Arlene was walking to the front door with John, but Sherlock Holmes stayed behind. He looked around, sniffling. He looked under the stairs, under the windows, and he even checked Arlene's neighbour's front porches. Arlene and John watched him in silent wonder. He looked like a child overwhelmed by the amount of Christmas toys he had just opened.

Finally, he walked up the stairs and through the front doors. He seemed to know where the living room was right away, and he strolled there without hesitation. Arlene ran after him, trying to understand what he was doing. But his actions were nothing like she's ever seen before. He checked every inch of the room in less than five minutes, and then he returned back to the front door. He closed it. Then he walked over to the window beside it and examined it closely. Then, he left the house, and closed the door from the outside. Arlene saw his focused face examining the same window again from the outside.

"What is he doing?" Arlene asked, confused by his actions.

"He's always like this," John said, with a somewhat apologetic smile on his face. "Better let him be."

"He's almost like a child."

"He is like a child." John nodded, his smile widening.

Arlene smiled. Her mood was getting better by the second.

Sherlock appeared in the hallway again. Although his face was unchanged, his eyes were almost glowing with excitement and smugness.

Arlene stared at him with anticipation. No other detective she hired looked this pleased with himself after looking around her house.

"Your friend, Arlene, was kidnapped and I am sure I can help you find her."


End file.
